A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I should be able to start updating more frequently soon. This one is pretty long as your reward for being patient.

Also, I've added dates at the beginning of each chapter, and I'll continue doing that for the remainder of the story. It'll help you keep things straight later on. Enjoy!

Double Cross

V Percy

December 15

His eyes refused to open. They were crazy-glued together, squeezed as tight as possible. Maybe, Percy thought, this wasn't real. Maybe he'd just had a very vivid, very painful nightmare. He would open his eyes and see his cabin, not the cramped stone cell.

He almost believed his fantasy, except for the aching soreness throughout his entire body. Every tiny movement set off a dull burn that never quite faded.

Slowly, he cracked his eyes open and felt a sharp stab of despair when he saw the dirty walls of his prison cell. He groaned quietly and sat up, his spine cracking painfully with every inch. His head fell back against the wall and he sighed. This was definitely not how he'd wanted to spend his Christmas break. Right now (when was right now, anyway?) he could have been waking up in his own bed. Or maybe walking to breakfast late, as always. Smiling at Annabeth across the tables…

His grumbling stomach brought him back to his current situation, and he realized that he hadn't eaten since… since dinner the night he was kidnapped. How many days was that—two? He reached over for the tin plate the guard left last night. The bread was stale and tasted like sand, but it quelled his hunger, at least for a little bit.

He eyed the tin mug of water. He could drink it… or save it to use as a weapon. He smiled slightly, but it didn't touch his eyes. Whoever had thought to give an imprisoned son of Poseidon water was going to seriously regret that lack in judgment soon. He took a small gulp, hoping to strengthen himself for today, at least, and then hid the cup under one of the filthy blankets.

Not knowing what else to do, he rose to his feet somewhat shakily. His vision blurred for a second or two, and he had to use the stone wall as support. The rough texture of the rock was almost soothing, in a strange way; it reassured him that something stood solid and firm in this hellhole. Other than that tiny, peculiar reassurance, though, the cell embodied everything he despised about his predicament. He was held against his will, starved, trapped in a small space, tortured, separated from his loved ones by gods-knew how many miles of dirt and rock.

He slid down the coarse stone until he was sitting on the ground, head thrown back dejectedly as he glared at the ceiling.

Why was it always him? Why now? Could he never get a break? For years, he'd dedicated his life to the war, lost countless friends and a good portion of his innocence. The majority of sixteen year olds hadn't killed people, after all. They probably hadn't fought thousands of monsters, either. And, oh, right, they most likely hadn't had giant end-of-the-world prophecies made about them or been through a war.

And now, here he was, trapped in a prison cell miles beneath the earth's surface, while Gaea was plotting to destroy the gods. Shouldn't there be some kind of recovery time allowed?

Someone rattled his cell door roughly.

"Get up, prisoner," Logan grunted through the bars. "Gaea wants to see you."

The goddess swirled the nectar around in her goblet lazily as she lounged on her simple throne. She glanced up at him, dull disappointment and fake sadness cooling her gaze.

"So," she drawled. "You refuse my generous offer again?"

Percy glared at her and nodded for the millionth time that morning. He must have been here half an hour already. She had started out with some counterfeit drivel about not wanting to see him hurt, and her sincere wish that he had reconsidered and chosen to join her. For some reason, she was utterly shocked that he hadn't. Chosen to join her, that is.

The ancient goddess sighed and looked him full in the face with an expert imitation of regret painted on her earthen face. "Well, Percy, it seems that you must face the consequences again."

He grimaced. He'd known this was coming, of course, but it was never pleasant to hear that he was going to be tortured.

"Darius," she called. A kid opened the door and bowed. Most of his body was covered with armor, but Percy could tell that he had pale skin and dark eyes. He was probably around fifteen years old, stocky and short. Percy could have easily taken him, even without a weapon.

"Yes, milady?" the boy—Darius—asked. Gaea smiled sleepily.

"Fetch the Guard, and then escort our, ah, guest to the tank." Darius nodded curtly, bowed again, and hastened out of the throne room. Percy scowled. One kid was easy to beat unarmed. But he couldn't take out an entire group of them without making a commotion.

Gaea chuckled, and the sound was like feet dragging on a dirt road. "Did you really think I would leave you alone with that bumbling idiot? You underestimate me, Percy. It wouldn't do to have you escape, now, would it?"

His temper flared. He couldn't help it. "They'll find me, you know. They're looking for me even as we speak."

He wasn't lying—he'd had a dream just last night. It had been blurry, like looking through someone else's thick glasses, but he had been able to see what was happening in his absence.

Gaea scrutinized him. "I see you have overpowered my enchantment. Interesting. Your father's nature makes you too changeable. You're not supposed to be able to have any contact with the outside world. I'm the one who blocked your empathy link with that satyr, you know. Couldn't have you trying to tell your friends where you are. They might try to find you, and that would be very bad for them, Percy."

Her face contorted into a sickening simper.

Percy was in shock. She'd cut him off completely. "You…"

She laughed airily. "I'm more powerful when I'm in my element. I can remain awake for periods of time. On the surface, I'm forced to stay in a state of half-sleep. But even then, you'll find, Percy, that I am not to be underestimated.

"Already, I am improving the world above. You've never been a fan of my granddaughter Hera, have, you? She's so strict, so prideful… Did you know that she planned to rob you of your memories, Percy?"

His gaze tore away from the floor so quickly that his neck cracked. He studied her face carefully. She had to be lying. Even Hera wasn't that bad. Right?

"I see that you didn't know. In fact, she planned to do the deed the very night my forces retrieved you. Had they not, you would have been utterly lost, without any recollection of your entire life. All because of the whim of a temperamental goddess, Percy. She wanted to punish your Annabeth. Ah, that touched a nerve, didn't it? Well, I couldn't let you suffer that. So I've had a nice talk with my granddaughter, and she's now helping me.

"You see, Percy? Even the Queen of the gods is assisting me in correcting the ways of the gods. She has been humbled, naturally…"

A firm knock sounded from the doorway, and Percy jumped. He'd almost forgotten about his coming torture, he was so absorbed in what Gaea was telling him. He didn't believe most of it—Hera would never betray the gods—but some parts were not too far-fetched.

"Time flies when you're having fun, hm? I will see you again, Percy. Consider my offer, in light of what you have learned." She crumbled into dust and blew away, just as she always entered and exited.

"Dude," Darius said to one of the guards. "When's the next time she's gonna let us up to the surface? I haven't seen sun in like, a week."

The other rolled his eyes. "The chutes are broken, noob. Remember? Alex fused the doors shut a few days ago."

Another guard, who looked like she was only thirteen, groaned. "That'll take ages to fix, unless we can find a Cyclops."

Percy listened to their conversation closely as they walked him to the torture chamber. The ten guards seemed to have forgotten about him.

"So, we can't go up at all? There another chute right over there," Darius pointed down a hallway not far from Gaea's throne room. "Why can't we just use that one?"

"Shut up, you idiot. The prisoner will hear you," barked an older guy, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He shot Percy a look that told the son of Poseidon that this kid clearly thought himself superior to everyone. Percy rolled his eyes. Like he hadn't been listening to their entire conversation.

"Just because you're ranked higher, doesn't mean you're perfect, Don," a girl muttered irritably.

Don glared at her. "I may not be perfect, but I'm a hell of a lot closer than you, Nicole."

The other guards were so absorbed by the beginnings of the fight that one of them walked into the door of the torture chamber. He cursed, holding his bleeding nose, and scrambled in his pockets. The girl who had been arguing before, Nicole, tapped him on the shoulder and stiffly dropped a key into his hand.

"You dropped it, Alex. Better be more careful next time, hm?"

Alex blushed and shoved the key into the lock with a lot more force than necessary. Once he got the door open, Don grabbed Percy's shoulder and threw him into the room, slamming the door loudly.

Percy sighed, steeling himself for what was coming next, and turned to see a grinning Katherine with an aquarium-sized tank full of blood.